


Puppy Eyes

by Shigure_Natsu



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: (both for Damen and Laurent and because there is ACTUAL puppy love in here), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, And Damen just being his usual puppy self, Background Nikandros/Auguste, Dogs, Fluff, Laurent being amazing with animals, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, Nicaise is an angsty teenager, Puppy Love, Vet!Laurent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 06:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17156657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigure_Natsu/pseuds/Shigure_Natsu
Summary: If there's one thing Damen didn't plan, it was stumbling on a cardboard box in the rain, and adopting the puppy it contained. But mostly, he didn't plan it would lead him to meeting Dr De Vere, or how the vet would immediately snatch his heart.





	Puppy Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blurredmxnds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blurredmxnds/gifts).



> For the [Captive Prince Secret Santa](https://caprisecretsanta2018.tumblr.com/), 2018 edition! It's always a delight to participate in these.
> 
> One of my prompts was: _"veterinarian and pet owner kind first meeting and fall in love"_  
>  And I just couldn't pass it up! In case you didn't know, I'm a vet student, so this was just TOO GOOD. I maybe crammed a bit of puppy care info in there. Maybe.  
> And, as per request, I made those boys _SOFT_. The softest. Loved working on so much fluff.
> 
> Thanks yet again to the wonderful/amazing/brilliant [Nya](http://madamesehun.tumblr.com/) for being my beta. She's the reason this work isn't drowning under dumb typos. I love you.
> 
> And Happy Holidays to all of you ~

It’s raining, when Damen first stumbles upon the poor creature. Or, more precisely, stumbles upon the cardboard box in which it lies. There is water in his eyes, clouding his vision, and Damen is desperately trying to shake it off and brush away the curls that fall in his face when he trips, sending the object scattering. He’s about to ignore it in favor of running back to his apartment, but hears a whimper coming from the box. 

Damen stops. Crouches next to the flimsy thing, just as soaked as he is. When he opens it up, something jumps at him. Damen raises his hands, protects his face. But the creature only topples over the side of the box, balancing on the edge, and whines. Damen opens his eyes. And is immediately faced with the most heart-breaking chocolate gaze he has ever seen.

The puppy is barely a couple of months old, and probably a golden retriever, by the look of it. It’s as soaked as the box, and in the same deplorable condition. Damen’s heart instantly melts. He has forgotten all about the heavy rain chilling him to his bones. He sighs, and picks the poor thing up. It weeps, for a second, scared. But once it’s comfortably settled in the crook of his arm, warm against Damen’s chest, the cries grow from anguished to pleased, and it closes its eyes, burying deeper into its new nest. 

Damen sighs. He doesn’t have the heart to put it back down. His throat closes even thinking about it. And he _has_ been considering adopting a dog for a while now. He has both the time, the space and the resources. It’s almost like providence…

So Damen settles. Plants his feet on the slippery ground and rises, making sure his wimpy bundle isn’t too jostled. And makes his way home.

 

*

 

“What am I supposed to do with him?” Damen asks, watching as the puppy runs around his apartment, eager to smell – and pee on – everything it stumbles upon.

Nikandros rolls his eyes, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he, too, eyes the little devil. Damen had called him as soon as he had crossed his threshold, suddenly lost. “You should take him to a vet. Check that he has no identification, first. And then, if he doesn’t, and you still want to keep him after an eventful night of horrors, you can go through the whole process. Get him his shots, get him identified, buy everything you might need for him…”

As Nikandros breaks off, Damen jumps from the couch, catching his new companion just before it starts chewing on the hardwood table. He groans, plopping the animal in his lap. It immediately lights up, pushing on its little back legs to get to Damen’s face and give it a thorough lick. Nikandros laughs. “Well, at least he is an enthusiastic little fella!”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Damen mumbles as he pushes the puppy back down on his lap, but he’s smiling too, incapable of resisting such a cute bundle of joy. “So, how do I find a vet?”

Nikandros stares at him. Hard. For what must be seconds. Damen only raises his eyebrow in response. His best friend sighs, then, pushing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “There is such a thing as the internet now, Damen. You can use it. To look up the vet closest to you.” Something seems to click at this moment in Nikandros’s mind, because he suddenly stops massaging his face and straightens, eyes wide. “Or…”

Damen doesn’t like the smile that spreads on Nikandros’s face. It whispers of unholy plans, usually at Damen’s expenses. But still, he indulges him, because Nikandros is Nikandros and he will get his way, no matter how much Damen struggles to go against him. “Or?” he asks, wary.

“Or, I can give you the address of someone I know.” Nikandros stops, corrects himself. “More like the address of the little brother of someone I know. I have this friend, Auguste, I must have told you about him…”

“Ha yes, this ‘friend’, no ‘benefits’ involved here,” Damen cuts in, remembering the numerous meetings filled with Nikandros’s rants. It’s his turn to smile now, smug.

“Shut up,” Nikandros replies, not missing a beat. “Anyway. Auguste, he has a brother, who is a vet. And with the way Auguste keeps rambling about him, you’d think he’s the next messiah.”

Damen hears undertones of annoyance in Nikandros’s tone. Seems he has heard many of these monologues about Auguste’s brother – certainly more than he is willing to subject himself to. Damen chuckles.

“But yeah,” Nikandros continues, ignoring his best friend. “I’ve heard only nice things about him, and it seems like as good as any place to start, if you want.”

It’s said in a casual tone, but Damen knows, for sure, that Nikandros is not going to let him go until he agrees to go see this particular vet. Damen hangs his head, and thinks for a second. His eyes meet those of the puppy, those same warm brown eyes that sprung him into taking the thing home, and he smiles, petting its ear as the animal closes its eyes. “Alright, fine. I’ll go. I mean what could go wrong?”

“Perfect!” Nikandros jumps from the couch, fist pumping the air. “I’ll ask Auguste for the address. You should go there tomorrow. The sooner the better.”

Silently, Damen wonders what he just threw himself into.

 

*

 

To Damen’s surprise – and joy – the clinic isn’t too far from his own apartment. He still has to drive there, but he thankfully doesn’t have to cross the whole town just to satisfy Nikandros’s stupid pride. And, to his astonishment, they have slots open for the next day. He fixes an appointment for later in the afternoon, because he can’t clear his schedule just for a puppy, no matter how much the puppy will try to wreak havoc upon his apartment in his absence.

He gets to the clinic in no time, the little devil happily jumping up and down at the feet of the passenger seat, trying to climb over the shift to get to Damen in hopes of being pet. 

The woman behind the counter is tall, maybe taller than he is. She greets him with a commercial smile, asks for his name, checks her calendar, and tells him that Dr De Vere will soon be with him. Damen settles into a chair, puppy in his arms to keep it from wandering around. He’s considering which color he should pick for the leash when a man in scrubs comes from the back of the clinic. He must be in his late thirties. Brown hair, a serious face, but kind eyes. He looks like a doctor, and a fine one at that. But Damen can’t shake the memory that Nikandros mentioned Auguste’s “little” brother, and Damen is pretty sure Nikandros isn’t hanging around with a man ten years older than he is.

Fortunately, the man doesn’t move to Damen, but turns to the nurse at the counter, chatting with her about a patient. He does, however, block the view when another figure in scrubs goes through the back door, someone to whom the nurse smiles, a real smile this time, and gestures to Damen. “Your patient is here, Doctor!”

The voice that thanks her is smooth. Gentle. Damen instantly takes a liking to it. And finds himself frozen in his spot when his eyes land on the man it belongs to.

Of course. Of fucking course. He should have seen it coming. Nikandros knows he has a type. He very well does. So it should be no surprise to him that the man standing before him looks like someone straight out of his fantasies; chiselled face, pale blue eyes and silken blond hair in a perfect representation of all his wildest dreams.

Damen only gets back to himself when he notices the man is waving at him, eyebrows furrowed.  
“Mr D’Akielos?” he asks, for what must be the fifth time. “Is everything alright?”

The other doctor and the nurse have also turned to look at them, and Damen flushes, clutching his little bundle of joy closer to himself, looking anywhere but at Dr De Vere. “I… Yes, sorry, everything is alright. I was just lost in thought.”

The doctor still has his face pinched, but he nods, and turns back to where he came from. “Well, glad to see you back with us! Follow me please.”

They move to a consultation room, Damen feeling very self-conscious about his awkward introduction. Dr De Vere gestures for him to sit, and so he does, lowering the puppy on the ground. He expects the doctor to sit at his own desk, but is surprised to see him crouch in front of his new companion. “So, is this the little guy?”

Once again, Damen finds himself taken aback. A smile has bloomed on Dr De Vere’s face, soft and illuminating his eyes. He lets the puppy sniff his extended hand, quietly laughs as it barks and licks at him, and only then does he sit in his own chair, hands going to his keyboard but eyes lingering on the small animal. Damen clears his throat. “Uh… yes, I… I found him, yesterday. He was in cardboard box, under the rain. Probably abandoned, I guess.”

He’s scratching at the back of his head, because Dr De Vere has finally turned to him, but he can’t seem to meet his eyes. He does notice, however, the quick thinning of his lips and bunching of his fist as he mentions the encounter. “Abandoned, uh? Well, let’s first check if he has a chip, just to be sure, okay?”

Damen nods. They move to the examination table, the puppy so happy to have the attention centered on it once again that it can’t seem to hold still, tail flapping from side to side, tongue lolling, yipping excitedly now and then.

Dr De Vere, smile back on his features, holds a small device against the left side of its neck. They wait. When it beeps, it sounds like Judgement Day to Damen’s ears. Dr De Vere shakes his head. “No I.D.”

Damen releases the breath he hadn’t even noticed he was holding. That’s good news. Dr De Vere, meanwhile, pets the puppy again, going eye level with it, a surprised laugh escaping him when it starts lavishing him with its tongue. “I guess you’ve found a new, caring home this time, haven’t you?” It’s directed at the puppy, but Dr De Vere’s eyes are trained on Damen. He can’t avoid eye contact this time. He gulps. And nods.

“Good,” Dr De Vere adds, and it seems like Damen has passed a test, because from then on the man seems more relaxed, as he continues alternating between questions and information.

“How does he behave at home?” The man asks as he checks its mouth, eyes and ears.

“Well, he’s a little… energetic. He tries to chew all of my furniture, and he’s been pissing everywhere, even though I took him outside.”

Dr De Vere nods. “The chewing is normal. He is about two months and a half, I think, so he has all of his baby teeth, and his adult ones won’t start growing for a couple of months, it’s probably not his gums itching. It may just be boredom. I suggest buying him a lot of chew toys in different materials, it will keep him occupied and will allow him to relieve his pain when his adult teeth start growing. As for the peeing problem… how long did you walk him yesterday?”

Damen cocks his head, trying to remember. “Well, it was raining, so I couldn’t stay outside for as long as I wanted to. I’d say ten minutes?”

Damen thinks he can see the man holding back a grimace when he says it. Instead, the doctor just nods again, and goes on explaining as he keeps examining the puppy, pinching behind its jaw, and then moving his hands around its tummy to feel for anything weird there. “Okay, that’s not nearly enough for a dog. Puppies have a lot of extra energy, they need to be outside a lot. A couple of hours at least, maybe more if you can afford to. Nothing too straining until they’ve finished their growth though. Which reminds me, if you live in an apartment with stairs, you’ll need to carry him both up and down them until he’s either around six months old or you can’t lift him anymore.”

“Lifting shouldn’t be a problem,” Damen agrees.

The doctor’s eyes linger on his arms, clad in a long-sleeved Henley. He quickly averts them, back to the puppy, but Damen could swear he heard him mutter “I can see that”, under his breath. He flushes.

“You also need to get him out each time he wakes from a nap and after he’s eaten, because that’s when they are more likely to go at it. It’ll help training him to only do it outside. And you can of course reward him when he does his things outside, at least in the early stages.”

With the amount of information Dr De Vere is throwing at him, Damen is quickly starting to feel like he’s going to drown, so he asks, “Is it okay if I write everything down on my phone?”

The doctor seems surprised that he asked, but it does get a smile out of him, so Damen counts it as a win. “Yes, of course.”

As Damen takes his phone out and starts typing, Dr De Vere unfolds the stethoscope from around his shoulders, pushes it to his ears, and places it on the puppy’s flank. He has to circle its muzzle, because it keeps breathing heavily in its excitement, but seems satisfied when he’s finished listening. “About the food, what diet have you started?”

“I didn’t have any dog food at home, so I cooked some meat and rice for him, and he seemed to enjoy it fine. But I actually planned on asking you what would be best for him.”

“Sure. I’ll show you what kinds of puppy food we have available and you’ll pick what you prefer. Just make sure you feed him small quantities multiple times a day and not just one big meal, it’s not good for them.”

“Okay.”

The back and forth proceeds for a while, Damen asking all the questions that come to his mind, especially about puppy training, and Dr De Vere patiently answering each and every one of them as he nears the end of his examination. 

“I just have one last thing to check, and then we’ll be all good for his shots and microchip.” He turns the puppy until he’s faced with its backside, pushing hair around. “Well well well, what do we have here.”

Damen is worried, for a second, until the doctor proceeds. “It seems our little ‘he’ is in fact a ‘she’!”

“Oh!” Damen’s surprise quickly fades, and he smiles, lowering himself to be level with the dog as the doctor had done earlier, getting a tongueful of it before he can kiss the top of her head, fondly scratching her ears.

“Hope you weren’t dead set on a little guy,” the doctor jokes, but Damen can detect hints of wariness in his tone, can see his shoulders tense.

“Not really, no. I don’t care. I don’t even have a name picked yet.”

“Well, that might have to change, because I’ll need to create a passport for this little princess, and give her a name to go with her identification. You don’t have to stick to the official letter since she’s probably not a purebred dog, but if you want to, this year it’s the ‘O’.”

“The ‘O’…”

“I’ll let you think about it while I go and prepare everything.”

Damen nods, and puts the puppy down to let her explore as he debates. He still isn’t sure what to choose when Dr De Vere reappears, with shots and the microchip in one hand, and the passport in the other.

The shots go with as little crying as could be expected from an overdramatic puppy, which is to say a lot of crying. She keeps trying to climb into Damen’s arms, and he thinks he’s going to have to wrestle her to stay still for the microchip after she has had a first taste of the shots, but Dr De Vere shakes his head when he suggests so. “We try to go about this with as little stress for the animal as possible, we don’t want them to hate coming to the vet,” he says with a smile, as he turns to one of his cupboards and gets a treat box out of it.

He lays a treat path onto the table, one the puppy is all too happy to follow. He waits for her to be sufficiently distracted by the food she’s eagerly munching on before he slides the needle in the skin of her neck and pushes the chip out before taking the syringe away, all in quick successive motions characteristic of a practiced professional. Damen has to admit he’s kind of in awe, because the little dog hasn’t budged, not even whined.

“Et voilà !” Dr De Vere exclaims, syringe proudly held in one hand, a cocky smile on his full lips.  
It’s all Damen can do to look at the wall and pretend he hasn’t been starring at the man in astonishment and want. 

They go back to the desk, Dr De Vere filling the passport out and entering all the data from the day into his computer, the blank “name” field blinking ominously at Damen. The doctor must see it, and understand, because he turns back to Damen, pointing to the lobby of the clinic with a smile. “Why don’t we go and see what you’ll need for this little princess? You were my last appointment of the day anyway, so no one is waiting for me.”

Damen nods. He wants to thank the doctor for taking the time to really get him settled, probably even extending past his usual work hours, but he doesn’t know how, except with words. “Thank you, I was really lost, but you’ve helped a lot.”

The doctor turns to him as they walk, a blinding smile on his face. “You’re welcome! It’s my job after all.”

Once they get to the front of the shop, they take their time going through every little thing the puppy might need. Food and tins, obviously, but also treats, toys, a collar and a leash now safely secured around the puppy’s neck, and the ever-essential poop bags. Dr De Vere also delivers him worming and flea treatment, reminds him about the boosters a month from now, and as they make their way to the counter, Damen’s arms full to the brim with stuff, he asks, “So, decided on a name yet?”

Damen smiles. He has. And he knows it’ll be perfect. “I think I’ll call her Ohana.”

 

*

 

“Sooooo…?” Nikandros asks over the phone, later that evening.

“So what?” Damen replies, rebuffed.

But Nikandros, ever the annoying best friend, instantly picks out what Damen isn’t saying. He guffaws. “You like him, don’t you?”

“He seems nice,” Damen grits through his clenched teeth, hoping it will sound too jumbled for Nikandros to decipher.

“I knew it! He’s totally your type. Oooooh this is gonna be good!” Damen can hear Nikandros flailing around his apartment, cackling manically to himself, obviously very proud of setting Damen up with his fuckbuddy/boyfriend/take your pick’s little brother.

“I hate you,” Damen says. He hangs up.

 

*

 

There is a smoldering teenager at the counter the next time Damen comes to the clinic, this time just to buy food for little Ohana, because she has destroyed the small packet he bought the previous time. And if he is also hoping to get a glimpse of Dr De Vere as he does, well it’s nobody’s business but his own.

“What do you want?” the kid asks, eyes narrowed, chewing his gum petulantly as he looks Damen up and down.

Damen is so taken aback he doesn’t remember to check himself before he blurts, “Is that how you’re supposed to talk to customers?”

The teenager is about to reply, straightening himself from his slouching position against the counter, opening his mouth, when someone calls from the back, amidst barking. “Nicaise, be nice,” the voice that Damen recognizes as Dr De Vere seethes.

“Fine!” the so-called Nicaise screams back, but Damen can see him roll his eyes. “What do you want, _sir_?”

Damen holds back a sigh. “I’m here to buy food for my puppy.”

The adolescent raises a curious eyebrow at that, still chewing his gum, and starts typing away on the computer. “Do you remember what you bought?” he asks, and this time his voice is gentler, but the sneer on his face hasn’t completely disappeared.

“I’m not sure. I think it was blue…?”

The kid scoffs. “Don’t look at me, I’m not the one supposed to know!” Then, with an aggravated sigh. “You’re lucky we keep tabs here. Name, please.”

“D’Akielos.”

The kid – Nicaise, Damen reminds himself – freezes. Then, a slow smile spreads on his lips, smug, as a soft “Oh” escapes from his lips. Damen shifts, weirded out by the sudden change in behavior. Nicaise doesn’t say anything else, though, just keeps clicking around his screen and grinning like a maniac. “Ah, here it is. It’s puppy food by Brand X. I’m sure you’ll be able to find it on the shelves, and you won’t need help carrying it with all those _big glorious muscles_ , will you?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but Damen doesn’t like the way he’s drawling about his musculature, and tries to convey as much in his gaze. The kid isn’t even looking at him though, just playing around on his phone and chewing his gum.

Damen is checking around the shelves for the specific brand he was directed to when a scream shakes the building. “Nicaise! I need your help! Pronto!”

It’s half-desperate, half-ordering. Damen doesn’t know what is happening to the dog in the back, but it seems concerning enough Dr De Vere doesn’t want to tackle it alone. He stays frozen in place, considering what might or might not be happening, watching Nicaise slip in the back, before he remembers himself and finally grabs what he came in for. He puts it back on the counter, and waits for Nicaise to come back to check him out.

The kid shows up a minute or so later, paler than before, swaying against the door, eyes half closed. Damen’s first instinct is to run over to help, but he stops right before he touches him, unsure. “Are you okay?” he asks instead, softly.

“Yeah I… I’m fine. I just can’t stomach blood,” Nicaise waves it away, face averted. 

If Damen wasn’t curious before, he definitely is now. But he just follows Nicaise back to the counter, careful that the kid doesn’t trip on his way there. Nicaise startles. Damen jumps to catch him, but once again, freezes at the last second. Nicaise has turned to him, grin back full force. “You don’t get squeamish when you see blood, do you?”

Damen shrugs. “Not really, I’ve had my fair share of accidents, especially that one time Nik and I…”

“I really don’t care,” Nicaise interrupts, raising one hand that he then moves to point at the door he just came from. “Just go and help in the back, I’m sure _Dr De Vere_ will appreciate your help.”

Damen hesitates, eyes alternating between the door and Nicaise. “I… I probably shouldn’t. Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” the teenager insists, having gone around the counter to push at Damen’s back, in vain. He keeps pushing until he figures it won’t be any use, and then stops as if nothing happened, only a sigh betraying him. “Now go!”

Damen isn’t ready for what greets him once he has gone through the door, and followed the corridor to the soothing voice of Dr De Vere and quiet whining. The vet has blood to his elbows, and hair stuck to his forehead by sweat, and he’s bending over a cocker spaniel, quickly stitching its belly up. But he’s also humming a soft tune, and shushing from time to time in the direction where the whining is coming from. When Damen looks over, he’s astonished to find a pile of newborns near a heating lamp, wrapped around in as many blankets as possible without suffocating them. 

He’s moving toward them without even thinking when he stumbles into a stool. He winces. Hears the clatter of metal on metal. When he looks over, Dr De Vere is staring at him, eyes wide, hands held up in the air. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He doesn’t move as he asks. Damen, however, can’t face the pale blue eyes pinning him down. He looks everywhere but at the man, hand raising to scratch at the back of his neck. “Sorry, I… Nicaise told me to come and help you?”

He dares to steal a glance at Dr De Vere then, and finds him sighing, his eyes closed. Once he opens them back up, he picks up his needle, discards it, and fishes around for a new, sterile one. “Not afraid of blood, are you?”

Damen settles for a simple “No”.

“Perfect then. Please, go and check on the pups. Make sure everyone is breathing properly, stimulate them with blankets and petting as much as you can, and make sure they stay warm. You can use some tissue paper to clean the bloodiest ones if you want, as well.”

Damen nods. He circles the table to tend to the writhing and whining pile.

“Oh, and one last thing.” Dr De Vere’s tone is strained. It makes Damen looks up. This feels important. “If something, _anything_ seems wrong to you, you tell me, immediately. You don’t try to work it out on your own, you don’t wait to see if it stops. Understood?”

Damen gulps. Dr De Vere’s icy eyes are trained on him once again, and this time, he can’t look away. “Yes,” he says. It’s only a whisper, but Dr De Vere hears it all the same. He gets back to his work. 

Damen crouches next to the box. There are six puppies there, all breathing as far as he can see. He still takes the time to examine each one of them, checking for the rise and fall of their thorax, reassured when they squeal as he moves them. They all feel warm to the touch, but he never withdraws them from the heat pads and blankets for more than a few seconds, just to be safe. Once he has made sure they will be alright and they’re huddled all together once again, he rises to get the tissue paper.

Amidst his task and the sudden silence at his back, Damen has nearly forgotten about Dr De Vere. He’s still slaving over as Damen catches a glimpse of him, brows furrowed in concentration, putting what seem to be the last stitches on the dog’s skin as the anaesthesia monitor keeps beeping regularly. Damen doesn’t bother him.

He takes his time cleaning the pups, wrapping them in blankets as he slowly works on each patch of drying blood, cooing to their ears and whispering sweet nothings into their furs even though they can’t hear a word he says. It’s a hand on his shoulder that jolts him out of his trance, a few minutes later. “I’m done,” Dr De Vere says, a tired smile on his lips.

And indeed, he has lowered the bitch from the table and closer to the pups. As he sees Damen look over, he explains. “She’s waking up right as we speak. I’ll put her in a kennel with the puppies as soon as she’s coherent enough. For now, we’ll just have to keep an eye on all seven of them. How are they doing, by the way?”

As he speaks, the vet lowers himself to the floor next to him. Damen’s throat suddenly feels parched. Constricted. Being this close to Dr De Vere is messing with him, he can tell. He can also very well hear Nikandros in the back of his brain, making fun of him and his infatuation to someone he doesn’t even know that well. He finds his voice back right before it gets awkward. “They’re all fine. Breathing and warm. And slowly deafening me with their whining,” he adds, cracking a smile.

To his surprise, Dr De Vere responds in kind, his own lips stretching, eyes closing for a second as he chuckles. “Yeah, newborns tend to be annoying like that. But at least they can’t run around and destroy your whole apartment yet…”

He’s looking fondly at the babies now. He takes one in his hand, coddles it close to his heart, cooing and laughing as it paws at his jaw. Damen feels his heart constrict and then stretch. It’s like his whole world focuses on Dr De Vere in this instant, haloed and magnificent, softly taking care of a creature he just brought into the world. Damen blinks. The vision fades. But his heart still feels too wide for his chest.

“Speaking of animal tornados…” Dr De Vere shifts, looking up at Damen through his eyelashes with a mischievous air. “How is your princess doing? Ohana, right?”

Damen is surprised – and honored – that he remembered the name. He looks away, bashful, but his smile widens as he thinks about his new companion, and he mustn’t be doing a very good job of hiding it, if the laughter in Dr De Vere’s eyes when he looks over again is anything to go by.

“She’s doing great. No more destruction once I started doing everything you told me.”

“No more peeing inside?”

“There’s still the occasional accident,” Damen winces. “But no, she does most of her affairs outside now.”

“That’s great!” Dr De Vere says, lowering the puppy back into its box, taking a second to check on the mother, whose head has started bobbing, eyes blinking, still unfocused. “No other problem?”

“No, she’s been great! “ Dr De Vere hums. Then, as the silence stretches, Damen feels obligated to add. “Thank you, for your advice. I was completely lost when I brought her in, but the instructions you gave me for the training have been doing wonders on her, and she just seems to grow happier and happier every day. It’s all thanks to you.”

Dr De Vere is rising, but Damen still catches the flush of warmth that spreads across his cheeks right before he turns around to help the bitch up and into the kennel. “I only did my job,” he says, half-whispering. “But I’m glad to know it was helpful. And glad to know she’s found a nice family to settle in.”

Damen wants to tell him he did plenty, but Dr De Vere has turned his back to him, pushing things around, moving the puppies in with their mother, checking on everyone one last time. Damen, lost, follows him when he starts heading back out of the operating center. 

Dr De Vere is washing his hands, getting the spots of blood the puppies left on him off of his forearms, when he speaks once again, voice low, “Thank you, for helping me today. Berenger had an emergency to take care of and Vannes was off today, hence why I brought Nicaise with me. But he doesn’t mix well with operations.”

It sounds almost like an apology, and Damen wants to touch him, to reassure him. He doesn’t, though. “You’re welcome. It wasn’t much, really. Just playing around with a bunch of puppies. I’ve had worse afternoons, I’d take this over pretty much anything, easily.”

He goes for light-hearted, and he means it. But he also doesn’t want Dr De Vere to blame himself for bothering him, when Damen went in there willingly – almost –, and did have a great time. When Dr De Vere turns to him, the soft smile from earlier is back on his face. “I’m glad then.”

They exit the back of the shop. Back at the counter, Dr De Vere admonishes Nicaise for running off when he needed him most, and the kid, instead of bolstering like Damen thought he would, hangs his shoulders and apologizes in a breath. Laurent scoffs, messes up his hair, and forgives him, making Nicaise go back to his aloof attitude in a second. Damen hides his smile.

He picks up his packet of food, places it on the counter, ready to pay. But Dr De Vere pushes it back toward him, shaking his head. “Take it. It’s on the house. For helping me out back there.”

Damen’s mouth falls open. He pushes the bag back. “You can’t give this to me! These things cost a fortune!” he argues, astonished. “I just took care of puppies for a couple of minutes, you really don’t have to.”

“I insist,” Dr De Vere says, pushing the bag back once again. “Every work needs compensation.”

“Fair compensation, though!” Damen replies, keeping the bag to himself but crossing his arms, glowering. “I can’t have spent more than fifteen minutes in there, that’s not worth a full bag of food!” When he sees that Dr De Vere is adopting the same attitude, he softens, unclenches his fingers. “At least let me pay for part of it. I’ll feel bad, otherwise.”

The vet sighs. Nicaise, Damen notices, isn’t missing one bit of the exchange, staying strangely silent throughout the whole ordeal. “Fine,” Dr De Vere says. “You’re paying half of it. I won’t go higher, though,” he adds, an eyebrow raised as if in challenge.

Damen shakes his head, laughing. He takes his card out, a silent peace offering. When Dr De Vere has finished checking him out, he escorts him back to the door, holding it open for Damen to go through, gaze lingering a second on his bulging muscles as he carries the heavy bag out before he catches himself. “I’ll see you in two weeks?”

Damen’s steps falter. He turns around, a questioning glance at Dr De Vere. Had he asked him out on a date without him noticing, or had Damen suddenly been propelled into a dream state? Noticing his confusion, Dr De Vere amends, “For Ohana’s boosters? It’s in two weeks, right?”

Damen curses himself when he feels his heart plummet inside his ribcage. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. But he soldiers on. “Of course! Two weeks, I’ll be there.”

And then he turns around, and walks to his car without looking back.

 

*

 

His phone rings when he’s out on a walk with Ohana that evening. It’s Nikandros, so he picks up, half- worried and half-suspicious. “Soooo, how was your afternoon at the clinic?” Nikandros asks, out of the blue.

“How the f…”

“Hahaha, no swearing, Damen.”

There’s a pause. Damen waits, eyes trained on his puppy running around the park with her new friends. He knows Nikandros will get to the juicy parts, in time. And he does. “I’m at Auguste’s,” he finally deadpans, rushing to continue before Damen asks any questions, though now that he knows what to look for, he feels like he can hear the sounds of someone cooking in the background. “And apparently, his little brother called him earlier to tell him all about the handsome barbarian he saw for the second time today.”

Damen can perfectly visualize the smirk Nikandros must be sporting right now. But his focus is quickly diverted by his best friend’s words. “Handsome? He thinks I’m… Wait! I can’t _believe_ you two are setting us up!” Damen groans.

Nikandros laughs. “Come on, _Damianos_ , we’re just giving you two idiots a little nudge. Why don’t you get back to the fact that he thinks you look great?”

“You’re such an asshole!” Damen says, fingers moving to massage his eyelids.

“And you love me for it!” This time, it’s Nikandros who hangs up without waiting for an answer.

 

*

 

Bringing Ohana back to the clinic for her boosters isn’t even half as traumatizing for her as he thought it would be. Dr De Vere’s method must have been working, because she’s waving her tail and yapping in excitement when the sliding doors open and they cross into the lobby. The nurse from the first time is back at the desk. She smiles her professional smile and rings him in, just like last time, and then they’re back to waiting for the vet to show up.

He does, after a few minutes, smiling and waving goodbye to a young lady with her cat safely tucked into its box. Damen’s heart thuds. Their eyes meet. Dr De Vere is the first to turn away, flush creeping on his cheeks. Maybe, just maybe, Damen can’t help but think, Nikandros’s information was right. But Damen still crushes the flare of hope in his chest. Now is not the time. He’s not here to flirt, he’s here to get his little princess all the care she needs.

The princess in question is currently jumping around, straining on her leash for release, looking intently at Dr De Vere as he crosses the room. Damen holds his side of the leash, a silent question in his eyes. Dr De Vere nods. As soon as Damen has her freed, she propels herself forward and into the arms of the vet, who is now crouched to meet her. She nearly knocks him off his feet. They both laugh, Ohana giving Dr De Vere her signature greeting of tongue and saliva. “Well, at least one of my patients is happy to see me!” he says, pushing her back down, petting her head.

Damen wants to reply that his dog isn’t the only one happy to come here, but he holds back. There are a few other people waiting in the reception, and the nurse, and he still isn’t convinced Dr De Vere would be happy to receive his attentions. 

They get to the same consulting room as last time, and proceed much as they had before, except for the silence that slowly settles between them. Damen doesn’t have as many questions to ask, and the vet doesn’t have as much advice to dispense. It doesn’t feel awkward, though, which Damen is thankful for.

“Still getting her long walks? Seeing a lot of new things and people and animals?” Dr De Vere asks, preparing the syringe and using the same trick as last time, laying copious amounts of treats on the table.

Damen nods, watching as Ohana jumps on the food, gulping it in as if she hasn’t eaten a meal only a couple of hours before. She doesn’t notice the injection more than she did last time. “Yeah. Since you told me she needs to get used to a lot of different things, I’ve been taking her around as much as I can, around different neighborhoods and all that. I’ve even started taking her with me to work. She loves meeting new people, and she just tends to run around or sleep as we train.”

Dr De Vere raises an eyebrow at that. “May I ask what kind of work you do, if that’s okay with you?” he says, putting everything away and lowering Ohana back on the floor with a few extra pets.

Damen shrugs, a shy smile on his lips. “I’m a personal trainer. I go to clients’ houses, most of the time, so it’s really fun to see how enthusiastic she gets when we arrive in a new place, especially if there is a dog or any other animal or even kids for her to play with.”

Dr De Vere mumbles something under his breath that sounds strangely like “Well, this explains the _muscles_ ” in between his teeth.

“What?” Damen asks, unsure if his ears are betraying him.

Dr De Vere shakes his head. “I was just saying that it’s very nice for her! To get exposed to all that. Do you plan on running with her later on?”

Damen shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ll see if she’s up for it, once she’s finished growing. If she wants to, I’d be delighted to try though,” he replies, crouching down on one knee to scratch right behind her ear, exactly where she likes it. Ohana immediately starts lolling her tongue out, eyes closing, back foot thumping against the ground in sync with his movement. 

Damen’s heart squeezes, once they head back outside. He’s been debating asking Dr De Vere out for the whole duration of the consultation, and he still hasn’t made up his mind. But they’re at the counter before he can say anything, and then Dr De Vere is turning toward him, extending his hand, a smile on his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around, Mr D’Akielos,” he says, and Damen’s heart sinks even more. He nods, though, says goodbye as he shakes the vet’s hand, right before he disappears with the next client. The nurse is eyeing him warily, when their eyes meet. But she doesn’t say anything.

 

*

 

“Damen, you’re a moron,” Nikandros deadpans when Damen calls him that night, to complain about his epic failure.

“Tell me about it,” he groans, arm spread across his face, lying on his bed with his feet dangling off the side, Ohana sprawled next to him.

“I mean he’s just as much a moron as you are if he’s half as attracted to you as Auguste seems to imply, to be honest. Yeah, you’re both morons. I can’t believe how perfect for each other you are, you _morons_.”

“Please stop saying ‘morons’, or I’m going to have to hang up on you. Again,” Damen says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Well, someone has to try and clean up your mess. Or at least make you see how much of a moron you are.”

“That’s it, I’m hanging up.”

“Wait wait wait!” Nikandros screams through the receiver, forcing Damen to push his phone away from him.

“What?” he asks, tired, as he presses it back to his ear.

“Moron.”

Damen throws his phone away from him.

 

*

 

He spends the next few weeks alternating between total happiness every time he so much as glances at Ohana, and anger and regret the rest of the time. He’s mopping around, thinking about Dr De Vere and what could have been, when he gets a phone call. “Hello, am I talking to Damianos D’Akielos, personal trainer?”

The voice is authoritative, but strangely familiar. Damen can’t quite pinpoint it, so he shrugs. It’s probably nothing. “You are. I suppose you’re calling about setting up a training regimen?”

“Exactly! Are you free this afternoon?”

Damen is surprised by the question. He doesn’t get clients asking to meet on the very same day that often. But he just so happens to be free today, even though he’s a bit annoyed to have to cancel his plans to go to the nearest forest with Ohana.

“I… yes, I am.”

“Perfect! Then let’s say… in an hour?”

“Sure,” Damen replies, deciding to go with the flow. “I’m going to have to ask you for a bit more information before that.”

He gets the address, as well as a few of his new client’s objectives to quickly prepare a routine for today, and jots it all down as he speaks, setting up his printer for all the legal papers. He even remembers to ask if they’re okay with dogs, to which the man responds with a cryptic “more than okay”.

“Perfect, I’ll be there! May I have your name?”

“Laurent,” the man replies, and he sounds strangely smug as he does.

Damen shrugs it off. It wouldn’t be the first weird client he ever got, and he can handle himself.

 

*

 

He shows up at the hour on the dot, in front of an average sized house with a nicely kept garden. The gate is wide open, so he figures he can go and ring directly at the door. Ohana is trailing behind him, tensing her leash now and then when she sniffs or sees something of interest, but easily falling back in line with a slight tug.

The doorbell echoes through the house. A muffled “Coming!” follows, so Damen waits as he hears the man make his way through his house. The lock slides and the door opens, but before Damen even has the time to see who is on the other side, the man speaks. “Auguste, I told you a hundred times already that I could give you a key, why do you keep insist…” he trails off.

Dr De Vere is standing right in front of Damen, both wide-eyed, frozen on the spot. Ohana is the only one moving, yapping when she recognizes the man at the door. 

“Mr… D’Akielos?” Dr De Vere asks, head slightly cocked. “What are you doing here?”

Damen shuffles, lowers his gaze. His hand comes to scratch at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I… Someone called me, an hour ago, requesting a personal trainer, and giving me this address?” he says. “But obviously they gave me the wrong one… Do you happen to know if one of your neighbors is named Laurent, maybe?”

Dr De Vere is silent for a few seconds. Then he groans, buries his face in his hand. Inhales deeply. “Is something wrong?” Damen asks.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just… I’m pretty sure my brother set this all up and I’m going to have to plan a very careful revenge for that.”

“Wha…”

“I’m Laurent,” Dr De Vere interrupts him, a shy smile on his lips, one hand waving next to his head as if in explanation, the other supporting his elbow.

Suddenly, it all makes sense. The weird man calling him, sounding all smug. “So, I guess I had Auguste over the phone.”

Laurent nods. Then his eyes widen, and his mouth opens, as if to ask about what he just said. “I’m so sorry,” Damen says before Laurent can, shaking his head and slowly stepping away from the door. “I didn’t mean to intrude like that. I’ll just… see myself out. And go and plan _my_ revenge against my awful best friend, sorry again.”

He’s turning on his feet, Ohana whining as she’s dragged away, when Damen feels a hand circle his wrist. “Wait!” He stops. Turns around. Laurent isn’t looking at him, blushing furiously. But he doesn’t let go. “It’s fine. I… I’d be glad to have little Ohana over for a few minutes. And you, of course,” Laurent adds in his haste, gesturing to the interior of his house. “If you want to have coffee or something.” 

Damen gulps. He’s at a loss for words. Especially now that he has noticed Laurent isn’t wearing his usual work attire, replacing the scrubs with a nice long-sleeved shirt and fitted pants, which do wonders for his figure. He forces himself to take a deep breath, blinking away from the clothes and the body they hide and back to the gorgeous face that’s currently looking at him expectantly. 

“Sure,” he says.

The inside of Laurent’s house is as Damen would have expected. Modern, in shades of blues and greys and white, with everything in its designated spot. At least that’s what he thinks, until he gets to the kitchen. It’s a wonderful mess. Laurent had obviously been in the middle of cooking something, a pie maybe considering the plates and the flour all over the counters, and the apples he hasn’t peeled yet.  
“Sorry about that,” Laurent waves. “I’ll just make us coffee, and we’ll get back to the living room.”

He gets the coffee grounds out of one of his cupboards, extending his arm and revealing some of the skin of his lower back as he does. Damen turns his head away, blushing. 

“Oh, by the way, you can let Ohana off her leash!” Laurent says once the sound of the pot brewing fills the air. “My cats usually go hide upstairs when they hear strangers, but maybe they’ll come and greet her once they realize you both aren’t a threat,” he continues, crouching to give Ohana her long awaited pets, now that she’s free to roam around, and especially to come and lick at his jaw. “And my snake is safely tucked away,” he adds with a wink.

Damen jumps, tensing. “You have… a snake?”

“Ha, yes. A Mexican Black Kingsnake to be exact. She’s lovely.” Laurent is putting coffee in cups as he says so, unaware of Damen’s unease. When he raises his head, he notices. “Don’t tell me a big guy like you is afraid of what a tiny snake could do to him?”

Laurent is half joking as he asks, but he sobers up as soon as he sees that Damen isn’t reacting, except for a shrug and crossing his arms to shield himself. “Sorry.” Laurent extends the coffee cup to Damen, a peace offering. “I shouldn’t have assumed. Don’t worry, she can’t escape her enclosure, and she’s up in my office upstairs, so you won’t see her either.”

“Thank you,” Damen says. “For both the beverage and the reassurance.”

They move back to the living room, Ohana trailing behind them with her head turning every other way to get every object and scent around the house in. She must smell the cats, because once she crosses a scratching post, she goes straight to following the lead, wandering until it takes her to the bottom of the stairs. “Ohana, no,” Damen admonishes as Laurent chuckles.

The puppy keeps looking up for a few seconds more, and then turns away, trotting back to them. “Good girl!” Damen pats her head, fishing in his back pockets for treats that she devours.

“She’s really well-behaved, at such a young age! I’m impressed.”

Damen smiles, a proud twist to his lips. It turns a bit cocky when he looks over at Laurent. “An amazing vet gave me neat advice about how to train her, and it’s been working wonders.”

Laurent flushes, the red extending past his cheeks and to his neck, suddenly immersing himself in his observation of his coffee cup. “Thanks,” he whispers, a moment later.

The room fills with silence. They’re both absorbed in their cups, and Ohana has finally settled, sprawling on Laurent’s feet, wagging her tail every time he reaches over to pat her head.

“I… wanted to apologize.” Laurent’s confession rings heavy in the previous emptiness. He’s turned to Damen, but his eyes aren’t quite settled, going from his coffee to Ohana to the wall behind Damen to Damen’s face, and then starting all over again.

“What? Why?”

“For my brother. You said you were sorry, earlier, but there is nothing to be sorry for. My brother was an asshole, he meddled with your life when he definitely shouldn’t have. You were probably expecting to get a salary out of your visit, you’re meant to be working, this is unacceptable! Actually, maybe I could give you some money, at least pay you for the drive…”

Laurent is rambling, putting his coffee down and rising to no doubt go in search of his wallet. Damen has to interrupt, before the poor man drives himself mad with it. “It’s fine, Laurent.”

Laurent freezes as he says it, a shiver so big going up his spine Damen can see it. The expression on his face is troubled, and Damen feels guilty for putting it there. 

“It really is! It gave Ohana some play time, and she was really happy to see you!” After a bit, looking anywhere but at Laurent, he adds, “And so was I.”

It seems as if Laurent’s breathing falters. He takes a big breath in, releases it in a soft huff. Damen wonders what’s taken over him, when Laurent suddenly walks over. He plops himself down next to Damen, determination set in his gaze. Takes Damen’s chin in his hands to turn him to face him. Damen freezes, heart pouding in his chest. He’s certain Laurent will lean over, maybe finally put these full lips of his on Damen’s, as Damen has dreamed about for a few weeks now. 

He doesn’t. Instead, he lets go of Damen’s face. But he doesn’t drop his gaze. “I… want us to go on a date,” Laurent says.

Damen is so surprised he can’t reply. He keeps staring at Laurent, as if unable to decipher his words, blinking.

Laurent turns to him more, settling with one of his legs on the couch, hand on his knee, the other fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “A real date. Not some kind of made up plan by my brother or your best friend. Even just a walk around the park with Ohana, if that’s what you want. Something we decide.” He falters. Searches for his word, eyes averted, before going straight back to Damen, vulnerability showing behind the stoic façade. “And only if you want to, of course.”

Damen feels like he could burst then and there. His heart is overflowing with warmth, and his fingers crave to reach out, to take Laurent’s cheek in his hand, push back the rebel strand of hair that’s fallen to cover his eye while he talked. Maybe this time he would be allowed to. But he doesn’t want to rush things, doesn’t want to scare Laurent away, when everything he wished for is so close yet still right out of reach. He only has to extend his hand to grasp it, though. So he does. “I’d love to,” he replies with a smile.

Laurent unwinds. His shoulders drop, his eyes droop, his smile extends, and Damen feels so special for being the one able to move him like this. But his heart is going to combust if this goes on, and so he adds, playful, “And I’m sure Ohana will be delighted as well!”

The mention of her name makes the golden puppy perk up with a bark. She runs to them, pushing the carpet around as she does, and puts her front paws to Damen’s knees. “That’s my girl.” He kisses her forehead. 

When he turns back, Laurent is watching him, fondness in his eyes, with a spark of something Damen can’t quite pinpoint. Something deep. Thrilling. Maybe even a little dangerous. Something Damen wants to steer and cherish.

“Well then, it’s settled,” Laurent says.

They keep talking for a few minutes more, exchanging numbers, laughing about Nikandros’s and Auguste’s antics, exchanging dirty information about their relationship as perfect ammunition for their personal revenges.

Finally, Laurent rises, patting his hands on his pants, sighing. “Not that I want to chase you away, but Nicaise is going to come back from his practice soon, and he already tends to be in a pretty awful mood when he does, so if there is a stranger on the couch and the pie isn’t ready, he’s going to positively slaughter us.”

Damen’s eyes widen. He would chuckle, but the authoritative aura he remembers from the kid makes his laugh die in his throat.

“Well, mostly you,” Laurent adds. 

If Damen wasn’t sure about leaving before, he is now. And he knows that whatever happens, this time he’ll get to see Laurent again. For a date. The only thought of it has his insides swishing around and his lips quirking up, giddy with excitement. So he nods.

He leashes Ohana, following Laurent back to his door. They stay on the doorstep for a while, exchanging glances, lingering on each other’s faces, but never stopping for too long.

“See you soon, then,” Damen finally dares, a smile at the corner of his lips and hope bubbling in his chest.

Laurent replies in kind. “See you soon, Damianos.”

Damen is turning away, forcing himself to move because otherwise he knows he’ll find an excuse to stay, when the sound of his name finally reaches his ears. He pivots. “Wait, how do you know my name?” he asks.

Laurent’s cheeks color, only slightly, his raised eyebrow in perfect contradiction to the emotions revealed on the rest of his face. “It was written in your file?”

It’s half a question, half an assertion. Damen wants to slap himself. Or just disappear. “Of course it was,” he sighs, closing his eyes and shaking his head. 

“Sorry, maybe I should have waited for you to finally dare introduce yourself?” The tone his mischievous, Laurent’s eyes narrowed and his lips twisted in a smirk, and Damen realizes that he hadn’t even noticed never giving his name away. He feels like an idiot. He laughs.

“Alright, alright, you win,” he surrenders. “But please, call me Damen.”

Laurent nods. “Fine. Damen. See you soon.”

 

*

 

Damen spends the next few days as if floating on a cloud. He keeps forgetting or messing up things, but he’s so upbeat and generally nice to everyone about everything that they all forgive him for it. It is, however, inevitable for Nikandros to find out. Damen made sure not to make any allusions in his texts and to keep his voice level and stay on safe grounds over the phone, but when Nikandros barges into his apartment and finds him only clad in boxers, debating over what to wear, Damen knows he’s done for.

“What the hell, Damen?” Nikandros asks, trying to make his way through the heaps of clothes thrown haphazardly all over the bedroom. Even Ohana has relocated to the kitchen, tired of her owner’s endless fidgeting.

“What do you think? Do I pick the nice burgundy Henley that makes my arms look great with simple black pants, or do I go for the comfy black sweater with jeans that make my _ass_ look fantastic?”

Nikandros shrugs. “Simple. The Henley and the jeans.”

“Of course, I’m an idiot,” Damen grumbles, pushing all of the other articles of clothing on the floor and admiring his handy work, one hand under his chin, eyes narrowed as if looking for the secrets of the universe in the stitching of his clothes.

“And who are you going on a date with this time?” Nikandros asks again, finally reaching the bed and plummeting on it, making another mount of clothes fall to the floor, adding to the maelstrom the room has become.

“That’s none of your business,” Damen answers, turning away, gathering his outfit and suspending it to his cupboard, moving to the sea of fabric and proceeding to fold everything and put it back where it belongs.

“Uh uh, right. So, I guess this means you’re over your little crush on vet De Vere, uh?” Nikandros drawls, giving a slight push to Damen as he passes him, smirking.

Damen flushes. He turns away, hoping for his best friend not to notice. He should know better. Silence stretches, seconds ticking by, and as Damen shifts back toward Nikandros, he finds him with his mouth opened and his eyes wide.

“Don’t tell me… You’re going on a date with him? How the fuck did this happen and why wasn’t I aware of this? _Damianos_ , you owe me an explanation!”

“I don’t owe you anything!” Damen lashes out, annoyed.

Ohana, who had come to greet her favorite uncle, whines. He lowers his voice. Settles. “I’m not saying that what you two assholes did wasn’t the push we needed, but this completely disrespected our privacy, and our rights to make decisions. You sent me to his _house_ , Nik. That’s freaking invasive. You know that’s not okay,” he argues, then, because he’s still pissed at his friend for what he did, and also because he wants to see Nikandros fall from his pedestal, if only for a moment.

And he does. He fidgets. He bites his lips. And he apologizes. “Sorry. I know this was out of line. But damn, Damen, you two were _miserable_! We needed to do something!”

“I’m not going to thank you, if that’s what you want,” Damen deadpans, trying to ignore the feeling in his gut that tells him he should, because Nikandros just served him the perfect excuse he needed to see Laurent again on a plate. 

“Well jeez, sorry if I care about your love life!” Nikandros ironizes. 

Damen can’t help it. He snaps. “Maybe you should take care of yours first before dwelling on mine.”

It’s a low blow, he knows it is. He can see Nikandros hunching up, getting smaller, his eyes turning away as his hands come to circle his knees. Damen sighs. Drops next to his best friend, his arm over Nikandros’s shoulder. “Sorry. I’m kind of on edge. I really don’t want to mess up this date.” 

“It’s fine. You’re kind of right, anyway,” Nikandros mumbles, and he sounds like a petulant child.

“Doesn’t make it alright though!” Damen rises, going to the kitchen, fishing some snacks out of his cabinets, and comes back. He throws one to Nik, hoping to hit him in the face, but Nikandros catches it, right at the last second.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. This doesn’t mean I forgive you, though,” Damen says. “But I might, if you help me plan this whole date thing out correctly.”

He’s smiling, and it’s contagious, because Nikandros smiles back. He raises his fist in the air, pumping it. “Let’s do this!”

 

*

 

Damen shows up a few days later to one of the biggest parks in the city, wearing the Henley and the jeans, leather jacket thrown over it for good measure, and Ohana trotting behind him. She’s grown, a lot, compared to when they met. She’s doubled, if not nearly tripled in size, and fluffed up even more, her coat staying a light sand color and her eyes a warm brown. She gets all of the passers-by to either coo as they go or sometimes stop to pet her. Especially children. Which she loves as much as they love her, if not more. 

Damen is crouched in front of a little girl, letting her pet Ohana and explaining what breed she is, when he feels a light tap on his shoulders. He rises, turns. And stops breathing.

If he thought Laurent in a casual outfit looked gorgeous before, it’s nothing compared to what he looks like when he’s dressed up. The dark blue shirt sticks to his body like a second skin, making Damen’s mouth water, and the black pants aren’t leaving much to the imagination either. Which Damen is definitely not complaining about. The light scarf and long coat add the perfect touch of class to his outfit, and Damen knows he must stop staring and close his mouth, but he can’t. Fortunately for him, Laurent seems to be in much the same state. He does, however, get his bearings back more quickly than Damen, clearing his throat. “Uhm… hi! Sorry, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” he says, fidgeting with the clasp of his messenger bag.

Damen shakes his head. “No, I was here early, don’t worry about it.”

He takes the time to wave at the little girl as her father drags her away, giving ample opportunity for Ohana to perform her greeting ceremony as Laurent lowers himself to pet her. He comes back lathered in saliva, smiling from ear to ear. “A walk to the park, uh? How original,” Laurent teases as he rises, leaning close to Damen, granting him a whiff of his cologne. Damen kind of wants to follow the smell as Laurent withdraws.

“I knew you would be mad if I didn’t take Ohana with me,” he replies with much the same tone, shaking the leash for full effect. “And we need her to be pretty much exhausted if we want to be able to go anywhere after this without her running around all the while!”

Laurent chuckles. “I know.” He hooks up his right arm in the crook of Damen’s left arm as he says so, barely hesitating. Damen blinks. A slow smile spreads on his lips. It feels natural, to have Laurent there, by his side. He never wants it to stop.

They walk in silence for a while, exchanging glances here and there, smiling when they do. Ohana starts jumping up and down as they near the dog park, and is nearly shaking with excitement as they enter, yapping at other dogs and whining at her master to release her. He does, but not before giving her a stern look that implies she better behave. It seems like she understands, freezing for a second before she takes off. 

Damen is about to turn back to Laurent and suggest they take a sit to wait until the puppy has exhausted herself running around with other, sometimes much larger dogs, when someone sidles up to him. 

“What an energetic puppy you have!” The awed voice belongs to a woman in her thirties. She’s holding a leash as well, so her dog must be amongst one of the packs currently wreaking havoc on the grassy field, but she’s looking straight at him, a smile on her red lips.

“She’s just a normal puppy,” he replies with a shrug.

But she gets closer to him. Damen suddenly feels awkward. Assaulted, somehow. “Well, she’s delightful! And she seems to go along great with my dog!” she continues, pointing to a sheltie, who is indeed currently chasing after Ohana. “Do you come here often? Maybe we could hang out, they look so happy together!”

With a second of pause, Damen realizes she’s _hitting on him_. And if he noticed it, then she must not be subtle at all. The shiver he feels down his back, as if being watched, seem to confirm the phenomena hasn’t gone unnoticed by his date. Damen gulps. He’s readying himself to apologize, but feels an arm snake around his waist, a head touch his shoulder. Laurent’s next words are icy, and said close to his ear. “Sorry, I don’t much like to share.”

The woman blanches. She retreats without another word, quickly catching her dog and fleeing out of the enclosure. When Damen looks over, Laurent’s smile is smug, eyes trained on her silhouette.

“Well, aren’t you a jealous one,” Damen teases. He lets his own arm hook up to Laurent’s shoulder, savoring the warmth and the proximity, Laurent’s cologne coming back full force to haunt him.

Laurent shrugs, but his smile never falters. “You’re on a date with me. No plus ones allowed.”

This time, Damen doesn’t hold back. He brushes the hair out of Laurent’s face, delighted but not surprised at how smooth it feels under his fingers, and kisses his cheek. It’s worth it, if only to see Laurent flush bright red and turn his head away, biting at his lip. 

“That I am,” Damen replies, smacking his lips for better effect. He feels Laurent shiver under his arm. He laughs, and this time it’s his turn to be surprised, as Laurent snuggles closer to him, putting his face in the crook of Damen’s neck, breathing in. It’s not quite a hug. Damen’s heart overflows with fondness as Laurent’s breath ghosts over his skin, and he lets his own arm trail down Laurent’s back, something he never thought he’d ever get to do.

Someone is clearing their throat. When he looks over, it’s to find an old man staring at them, eyes narrowed and lips in a scowl. “Kids these days. No respect for anything sacred anymore,” the man groans, loud enough for them to hear.

Damen freezes. Grips at Laurent’s waist. His eyes are sending daggers, making the man cower, even though he doesn’t lose his sneer. It’s Laurent’s hand on his cheek that anchors him back to reality, at least for a second before he falls, deep and fast, into the vast blue eyes. “It’s not worth it,” Laurent whispers, and Damen can feel his breath on his lips. It would only take a push for them to kiss. Laurent keeps talking. “Let’s just get out of here. I think Ohana has had enough, as well.”

Damen looks over. Indeed, she’s sprawled on the ground, a few meters away from them, half-heartedly playing with another young dog, panting. Damen calls her. She rises, walks over, and sits, looking him straight in the eye.

“Well, someone is getting a bit too used to her treats, aren’t you?” he grunts, but he still gives her the much awaited food, before clasping her leash on and opening the gate for Laurent to walk through.

They take the walk back to where they came from, much slower than before. “That didn’t go as well as I was expecting,” Damen confesses moments later. “Sorry.”

Laurent shakes his head, a small, genuine smile on his face. “It’s alright. After all, it’s just the beginning, isn’t it?” His arm finds itself back in its earlier place, in the crook of Damen’s. A promise he’ll stay, or a vow to start again. Either way, Damen doesn’t mind. He’s even thankful for it.

Damen had spent half an hour looking for a coffee shop not too far from a park that would also allow them to come in with a dog. It’s a cozy place, with comfortable arm chairs and soft lighting, jazz music playing in the background. They sit far away from the door and the numerous people that come and go, making sure Ohana will be able to sleep in peace without bothering any employee. 

Laurent hums. “This is nice.”

Damen scratches the back of his neck. “I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure what you’d have preferred.”

Laurent smiles at him, soft, and places a hand on the one Damen still has on the table, making him freeze in his ministrations, and look over. “It’s perfect. Don’t worry.”

Damen lets his other hand drop, his shoulders relax. He sighs.

“As long as they make nice coffee,” Laurent adds with a wink.

As a matter of fact, they do. Laurent is so impressed he can’t stop gushing about it for a few minutes, and Damen indulges him, chuckling every time Laurent takes a sip and his eyes widen in pure awe. Damen’s hot chocolate isn’t bad either, and Ohana doesn’t seem to be complaining about the water the waitress brought for her. All is well. Until Laurent’s phone rings.

He picks it up, brows furrowed, thumb hovering over the end call button. Then blinks. “Sorry, I have to take this,” he says, lips crooked but eyes lost.

Damen nods. He really doesn’t mind. “Nicaise, are you alright?” Laurent asks as soon as he picks up. The answer on the other side must reassure him, because he sags in his seat, and sighs. “You don’t ever call me unless there’s something urgent, I’m allowed to be worried,” he admonishes then, trying to keep his voice low but the fear turned anger clear to Damen’s ears.

The voice on the receiver sounds just as angry to Damen ears, and he winces.

“I haven’t been _kidnapped_ , Nicaise, goddammit. I’m on a _date_.”

Silence. From both ends. Then there is delighted screaming on the other side of Laurent’s phone, and Damen is pretty sure he recognizes his own name thrown in there. Laurent holds the thing away until Nicaise calms down. Then, he takes it back, and says, in a voice so serious it gives no room for argument. “I’ll see you at home. Now leave me alone.” And he hangs up.

Damen would feel bad for Nicaise, if he didn’t recognize this exact same pattern of conversation as being far too similar to his with Nikandros. As it is, he pities Laurent. At least he won’t have to recount his whole date to an angsty teenager, though there are times when Nik isn’t much better. 

“Sorry about that,” Laurent sighs as he pockets the device. “I really thought he was in trouble.”

“Happens often?” Damen can’t help but ask.

He immediately feels bad for asking such a personal question, but to his surprise, and relief, Laurent takes it in stride. “The getting into trouble part, you mean? Not really, no. Not anymore, at least.”

There are whole memories to unpack, back behind Laurent’s clouded eyes, but that’s a talk for another day, at another time. At least he hopes he will get the chance to have that talk. Right now, Damen just wants them to have a good time.

And they do. They talk about their interests, those they have in common - like art, books, and to Damen’s utter joy, sports – and those they don’t – Laurent’s interest for everything bloody and reptiles making Damen cringe. 

“Sorry, am I being creepy?” Laurent asks, looking at his hands, head bowed low as he fidgets. “I probably shouldn’t be talking about gross things on our first date.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Damen reassures him, waving the troublesome subject away. “It goes with the job, I’m sure. And I’m not really surprised to find out that you like all kinds of animals, even scary looking ones.”

He shudders as he thinks of what Laurent’s snake might look like. He’ll never admit to it, but his brother used to scare him shitless with replicas of snakes, when he was a kid. Maybe that’s where the trauma comes from. Then, Damen jolts. “Wait, first date?” he asks. 

His smile is turning coy. Laurent withdraws even more into himself, before he raises his eyes, freezing Damen on the spot with the intensity of his gaze. His long pale fingers are playing with a strand of hair. “I was kind of hoping we’d go on more?” he says. He sounds so unsure, but his eyes don’t waver. 

Damen feels breathless. “Yes,” he hushes, the word slipping out of him before he has time to think it through. He doesn’t regret it. Especially when Laurent’s soft laugh echoes around him, and a blinding smile blooms on his lips.

“Glad we’re on the same page here,” Laurent whispers.

They leave soon after. The weather has chilled as night creeps on, and Damen shudders at the sudden change in temperature. Winter is getting closer. 

“Are you cold?”

Damen is about to reply that yes, he kind of is, when he notices that Laurent has crouched down and is talking to his dog, petting her head. He catches himself at the last second, but can’t prevent a strangled sound from escaping him. Laurent looks up. Damen clears his throat. Laurent laughs. “Well, it seems you aren’t,” he says to Ohana, “but your master definitely is. Let’s get you home, big guy.”

Damen flushes, but he can’t help the huge grin that grows on his face. 

“How did you get here, anyway?” Laurent asks as he rises, patting the dirt off his knees.

“I… kind of walked here?” Damen says, pointing in the general direction of his apartment. “I don’t live that far, it’s just a fifteen-minute walk, but I’m probably going to have to carry Ohana back.”

“She does look tired,” Laurent chuckles as they both watch Ohana yawn, eyes half-lidded. “But you look cold! Come on, I didn’t park too far, I’ll drive you home.”

Damen is all too happy to agree. Especially once he gets into Laurent’s car, and the heater turns on. Damen was never fond of the cold, but tonight caught him by surprise.

The drive is silent. The atmosphere awkward. Damen doesn’t really want to part, and he thinks – and hopes – the feeling is mutual, but he’s also unsure of what to say, what to do to prolong it without being too forward. Before he can work the nerves to do anything, however, they park in front of his building.

Damen turns to Laurent. To his surprise, he’s getting out of the car. So Damen does, as well, catching Ohana in his arms as she blinks awake, and walking to the doorstep. He lowers her there, focusing on Laurent instead.

Laurent, who is looking at him with fire in his eyes, his usually carefully blank face raw and open, a myriad of expressions crossing it at once. Damen waits. Laurent talks. “I had a really nice time. We’ll do that again, right?” It’s not really a question. They both know they will. Damen nods, still. And Laurent smiles.

Finally done resisting temptation, and eager to end the afternoon on a happy note, Damen lowers himself, until his lips are barely millimeters away from Laurent. There, he stops. And waits. A silent question.

The brush of their lips feels electric. Damen’s eyes widen, but he quickly catches himself, reciprocating Laurent’s eager kiss in kind, letting his hands trail on his muscled back and fist in the blond hair. Laurent is gripping at his biceps, holding on for dear life as he leads the kiss. When they part, both out of breath, he swears. “Those goddamn _arms_ , I’ve been dreaming about them for _weeks_ ,” he seethes. 

Damen steals his breath again, butterfly quick. “I knew you’d like the Henley,” he replies, cheeky.

Laurent laughs. And gives him another kiss.

 

*

 

And if the next time Ohana has to have her boosters, Damen has moved into Laurent’s house, and they’ve just adopted a new puppy, well, neither of them is going to complain.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr [here](http://kiseopingu.tumblr.com/).
> 
> I thrive on comments, so don't hesitate to scream at me about your thoughts and feelings!  
> If you wanna hear more about how Laurent and Damen adopt too many strays and have to have a schedule for who will take them to work which day, please, come join me and Nya into our dumb headcanons. (Also, it was decided that Laurent's snake is called Joséphine.)


End file.
